A Haunting of Horrors: A Twenty-Novel eBook Bundle of Horror and the Occult

by Chet Williamson

  “Chiao,” Max whispered. He listened for sirens, for the sound of a car on the street.

  The old woman came after a few minutes, pale, transparent, veined with rivulets of blood. She looked like the dream she had claimed to be, her form shifting and wavering two feet off the ground.

  “The god is stronger than I am,” Max told her.

  “My daughters … not safe…”

  “I know. I tried to save them, but I don’t have the power. Can you help me? Enter me, give me some of your strength?”

  “… restless sleep … can’t…”

  Max kicked a garbage bag. “Call on another part of yourself, Chiao. A warrior, or a magician, or something useful.”

  “… too far …”

  “Too frightened.” Max glanced at the man he had sacrificed to call the god, wondering if he should have gone through all the trouble. “Give me something, damn it! You warned me, but gave me nothing to fight him with. What can I do to stop Pale Fox?”

  “… trick…”

  “Trick? What kind of trick?

  “… trick the trickster…”

  “How? With what?”

  “… his pride … his need…”

  “What does he need?”

  “… everything … my… daughters … his … sister … a host …”

  “The man he’s using, Legba’s follower, his body’s being used up. The eyes are gone, and some skin. But I can’t wear Pale Fox down. He’ll kill me before I finish the job.”

  “… make an offering … draw him out…”

  “Another body?”

  “… a form … a soul … to be… possessed…”

  “But I don’t want him stronger, damn it!”

  “… catch him … in form … he cannot use …”

  “A dead body?”

  “… won’t come to death … only life …”

  “So what are you saying? Tell me—”

  “—offer … what he needs … but in … stranger … when he comes … take it away … he will be caught … in between … trapped … in soul … follow it … as he followed me … to his death …” Chiao drifted toward him, reached out with curled fingers, faded before she could touch him. A mist of water and blood settled to the ground.

  Max glanced at the bodies in the alley, still searching for a plan. The only one that occurred to him was to somehow trick the god into believing the woman was one of the twins, lure him into trying to plant his seed in her, and somehow kill the host body while the god was distracted. The woman’s chances of survival seemed poor. He shook his head, dismissing the thought.

  Max left the alley to retrieve the Buick. He opened the trunk, laid out the thick plastic he kept for blood work, hog-tied the smaller of the unconscious men, and put him in the trunk with a half-formed hope of using his soul to bargain with Pale Fox. As an afterthought, almost as a part of his habit of cleaning up after his pleasures, he put the dead man in, as well. The third he bound, gagged, and secured to a drainpipe bolted into the wall. After closing the trunk and starting the car, he went back and roused the woman by pressing snow against her face. He left before she fully regained consciousness, and before the Beast could further inflame him with its appetites. On the drive back to Pale Fox’s hiding place, Max could think only of Kueur and Alioune.

  The building was silent when Max returned, dragging the two men in with him. He brought them to the foot of the stairs, checked once again on the one still alive, tugging at the binding knots, went upstairs.

  The twins were sitting naked, cross-legged and opposite one another in front of a single fire drum. The others had been overturned and their fires had spilled out and extinguished on the concrete floor. The twins’ heads were bowed, their hands upturned in their laps. They might have been meditating, except for cuts, bruises, swollen joints, and the blood splattered over their bodies and faces. Pieces of foreign flesh clung to their bodies, and their mouths were framed by gore. Even from a distance, Max could see them trembling.

  Pale Fox was not sitting with the twins. Max peered into the shadows, careful to stay in them, until he found the god silently pacing at the far end of the floor, appearing and disappearing behind a massive machine that reached nearly to the ceiling. Pale Fox made no sound until one of the twins moaned.

  “Shut up!” Pale Fox screamed. Long, limping strides took him out of the darkness, into the flickering light. His body was ravaged: burned patches of skin across his back and chest flapped in the air; several fingers and the tip of his nose were gone; bone lay exposed at his cheek, the top of his head, and at an ankle. Dried blood and viscous, white fluid surrounded his wounds.

  “Bitch,” he continued, standing over Kueur, sniffing the air through his ruined nose. “What can I do now?” To Alioune he said, “Kill you? Is that what you want?”

  Kueur managed to spit at Pale Fox. It was then, watching her thin spray of saliva strike the god, that Max noticed Pale Fox’s genitals had been ripped away. A wide gash lay open between his legs, dark and moist with blood.

  “You think you’ve won,” Pale Fox continued. “But you should pray I find a way to plant my seed in you before this body dies. Because if I can’t,” he said, kneeing Kueur’s head, “I’ll leave you crippled and helpless, waiting for my return. And I will come back. If I have to drive my own followers across the ocean, I will come back. Now that I’ve found you, my sweet daughters, I’ll never let you go.”

  It came to Max that he was not the only one who could be led to his doom by what he loved and what he feared. He looked at the two men at the foot of the stairs. A trick came to Max; a disguise, and a chance to put Pale Fox on death’s road. The Beast snuffled, paced like a predatory wolf trapped in the confines of his head, eager to break out and kill something. The disguise was desperate, and the trick to get rid of Pale Fox lacked the certainty of a bullet or a knife’s edge. But then, he did not know how to kill a god. No one had ever taught him. A chance was all he could hope for. Max went down the stairs, throwing his doubts about the sanity of what he was about to do to the Beast.

  The cutting and peeling went quickly, his hands working with the skill and quickness of careful training and practice. Pale Fox stomped overhead, kicking loose rubble and screaming in frustration. The smell of blood and organs and guts hung in the air. When Max was done, he stripped, piled his clothes neatly in a corner against his survival, and slipped into the skin of the man he had killed. He was grateful for the man’s size, which made the skin’s fit loose and allowed freedom of movement. Next, he made certain the second, smaller man was still unconscious, then stripped him and tied clothes together into a harness. Using the harness, he secured the second man to his back, spine to spine. Hooking his feet around the man’s ankles, Max brought each up so he could tie their legs together. Tying the man’s ankles to Max’s calves provided enough freedom of movement while maintaining the crude illusion of being joined. To link their arms, Max used a pair of loops made from the man’s socks to keep their hands back to back. When he was done, Max was carrying the sacrifice he hoped to offer on his back.

  “What is this thing that comes?” Pale Fox cried out from above as Max took the first step up the stairs. “Meat, touched by gods, like the one before?”

  Max focused on climbing the stairs, grateful for the second man’s smaller size and weight. He lifted each leg carefully, and pulled himself along by finding handholds in the crumbling stairwell walls. The unconscious man’s arms tied to his limited his reach, but Max did not let go. He wanted Pale Fox to sense only one body, clumsy, with little threat.

  “I smell Chiao’s hand in this!” said Pale Fox. “An abomination. Twins, but brothers in place of sisters! Joined? Do you mock me, Chiao? Are you hiding in this monstrosity? No, no … I don’t think so. You’re just another agent, aren’t you? Something failed, I think. A final, desperate gesture from a frightened mother.”

  Max reached the second floor and trudged toward the twins, afraid to stop. Stopping might inv
ite collapse. Max shivered from the cold, from the pain of metal and glass and loose concrete pricking the soles of his feet. The dead man’s skin slid back and forth over Max’s body with each step, its restless movement aided by lubricants of blood and fat and sweat The dead man’s face and scalp sagged over Max’s face. Eyeholes slipped out of alignment, partially obscuring Max’s vision. Despite the pain and the cold, he headed for the dance of flames flickering through skin with his confidence rising. Pale Fox caught only the scents of strangers and Chiao, as Max desired. He still had a chance to save the twins.

  Kueur and Alioune turned, stared at Max. Their expressions transformed from shock to revulsion to wonder. They gave no hint that they recognized him.

  Pale Fox moved to intercept him, arms stretched out, fingers grasping. Max stepped sideways, circling around the god.

  “Can’t speak?” said Pale Fox. “Two mouths, two souls, but nothing to say? Or are there too many words, too many ingredients in this stew?” Pale Fox froze, sniffed, cocked his head, listened to Max’s shuffling steps. “Are you here to challenge me? Save my daughters from me?” The god shadowed Max’s movements, keeping himself between Max and the twins. “Don’t be afraid. Chiao’s last agent couldn’t manage, but you’re bigger. Stranger. Far more interesting. Filled with possibilities. Come, don’t be afraid, let me feel your strength.” Pale Fox held his hands up, inviting Max to charge.

  The Beast made Max lean forward, shuffle his feet. Max strained to hold the extra weight on his back, and to hold back the Beast. Not yet. Give the god what he wants.

  Pale Fox barked and sprang forward a step, challenging Max. “Come, now. Surely I can’t be that intimidating. After what my daughters did to me? They finished the job my brother started when he nipped me down below,” Pale Fox said, passing a hand over the emptiness between his legs. “But you don’t know about my brother, or my daughters, or anything else, do you? You’re just meat. Stupid. Dull.” He sniffed again, strained to listen, shook his head and stamped his feet. “These pitiful flesh senses. Hardly anything left even of them. But there’s two of you, sure enough. Both touched and warped by spirit powers. But one is stronger than the other, no? One seethes with energies and power. Rage. Part of you wants to kill me. But another part wants … my daughters!” Pale Fox cackled, hunched forward as if he were carrying as heavy a weight as Max. “The other sleeps. Chiao was not as generous with that one, I think. That one is weak.” Pale Fox’s laughter was high-pitched and short. “Twins, mated to my twins. What a nest that would make for my Yasigui.”

  Pale Fox withdrew. He reached back, felt for the twins. He caught Kueur by the ear, turned her toward Max. Kueur grimaced but offered no resistance. She kept her gaze lowered, as if the god’s hold reached inside to dominate her spirit.

  “She’s beautiful,” Pale Fox said, in a hushed, inviting voice. “Under the blood and filth. You want her. Yes, part of you does. Don’t lie, I can feel your desire, hotter than the flames. Forget what Chiao told you to do. However she made you, whatever she gave or promised, you owe her nothing. She’s betrayed you by sending you here. You know you can’t kill me, or hurt me any more than they already have. So forget Chiao. She’s abandoned you just as she did my daughters. There are more important things for you to do, like satisfy your hunger. Take this one,” he said, shaking Kueur’s head. “Take them both,” he added, pointing to Alioune with his other hand. He threw Kueur down, whirled around the fire, stood behind the drum.

  Max approached the twins. Kueur looked up while Alioune crept forward and put a protective arm around her sister. Neither of them recognized him. They stared, wonder long faded from their faces, waiting for whatever was going to happen next. Max recognized the price the twins had paid to hurt Pale Fox, and it was as terrible as the god’s emasculation. Their hopelessness frightened him even as their passivity incited the Beast.

  “Kill us,” Alioune said, in a low, flat whisper.

  “He’ll use you if you let him,” said Kueur, the musical lilt of her voice flattened. “Then he’ll kill you, too.”

  Max carefully adjusted the mask of flesh over his face, allowing the twins to catch a glimpse of him underneath the dead man’s skin. Their faces lit up. Shoulders rolled back, spines straightened. Alioune glanced at Pale Fox and licked her lips. Max’s love for them stirred as they took strength from his return and mended their broken spirits.

  “No, you don’t want to die,” Pale Fox said. “I can feel your interest, your passion. You want each other. Don’t deny yourselves. Give in to your desire. Give yourselves the pleasure you want. I’ll just take what I need, you won’t even notice me.”

  Kueur and Alioune came to Max. Following his lead, they helped him to the ground where he lay on his side. Kueur embraced him, kissed him through the layer of death so hard he felt her lips through the dead man’s flesh. Her teeth tore at the second skin, her tongue probed the holes for his eyes, nose, mouth. He almost released the unconscious man’s aim to hold her to him, but remembered in time that the moment had not yet come. He satisfied himself with tasting her tongue in his mouth, feeling her teeth rub against his lips and her thigh against his crotch.

  Alioune joined her sister, moaning into Max’s ear as her fingers kneaded his neck. She straddled his hip, rolled and pumped her own hips gently as her mouth closed around his ear.

  The dead skin rippled over Max’s body. The ancient hunger he had touched when looking into the empty eye sockets of the god’s host caressed him, murmured soothing sounds in his mind, darkened his thoughts. Fragile spirit tendrils barbed with sharp hooks of hunger sank through him, searching for a soul to catch. Seeking a life in which to sink roots. Max resisted Pale Fox’s entry into his mind. The Beast roared, leapt, savaged the delicate tendrils of spirit insinuating themselves into Max’s mind.

  Finding no follower of gods, Pale Fox drew away, reached for the unconscious man’s mind. During the few moments of transition, Max caught a glimpse over the shared link between their minds at the other man’s darkened consciousness. At the floor of the empty cavern of the man’s awareness, a shallow pool of memories reflected the faces of women, some drunk and laughing, others screaming. The images of sex, short and violent, rippled across the water. Along the edge of the pool, a few stones appeared carved in the images of a man and a woman. The faces were smooth and their expressions severe. The rest of the stones were shaped like the man’s ideal of his own sexual organ.

  Pale Fox hesitated, searching for the familiar structures of belief and ritual he was accustomed to finding in the people he possessed. In that moment of distraction, Max saw the seed Pale Fox carried: a dense fragment of idea and emotion; an endlessly coiled snake devouring its own tail, its mottled skin a codex for creation. The Beast strained to consume the seed while Max drew away from the vision, awed and humbled by its immensity.

  At last, Pale Fox moved into the unconscious man’s mind. Before the link broke, Max had an impression of the god’s anger over the unfamiliar terrain of the man’s mind, and his horror over a soul that not only did not believe in ancient African gods but held no faith in any spiritual life. Pale Fox floundered in the alien mind. Max held his breath, trying to suppress his fear that Pale Fox would run back to his follower’s body rather than follow his appetite. But the god’s hunger came, as deep and unstoppable as the Beast’s had been when it was a living part of Max. The link broke. The unconscious man coughed, barked, kicked, and struggled against his bondage to Max.

  Max signed for the twins to go to the man. As they settled over Pale Fox’s new body, Max released the loops and slipknots holding them together. Kueur and Alioune entwined themselves around Pale Fox, sparing Max a brief glance to confirm what Max wanted them to do. He nodded.

  Max’s erection, already stiff from the twins’ brief foreplay, ached at the sight of Kueur biting Pale Fox’s new neck and drawing blood. The god cried out, then gasped as Alioune stole his cry as well as his sensation of pain with a kiss. Pale Fox turned to Alioune, dis
tracted from the fact that bonds to Max no longer limited his movement. The god’s erection grew as Alioune rubbed herself against him, her body undulating like an eel’s. She rubbed her breasts in his face, then crept down to bite his nipples while her hand massaged his genitals. Once he was hard, she slipped him into her sex. Slowly gyrating her hips, she moved to his awakening urge, licking blood from his neck, kissing his eyes and lips.

  Pale Fox thrust his hips forward, pushing himself deeper into Alioune even as he arched his back and reached for Kueur, drawing her closer. The gore and blood Pale Fox had shed on the twins during his struggle with them mingled with their sweat and, as the three pressed their bodies against each other, painted the pristine, white skin of his new host. The smells of burnt wood and paper, rusted machinery, and concrete dust gave way to the tang of blood, sweat, and the lubricating fluids of sex. Pale Fox grunted with each thrust, and his eyes changed subtly to his animal form’s feral shape.

  He maneuvered Alioune’s hips with eager hands and gasped for breath through clenched teeth, driving toward his climax. But Kueur, her head thrown back and eyelids fluttering, stole his pleasure through the long, slender brown fingers with which she caressed his body and herded his senses to greater ecstasy. Pale Fox cried out in desperation, and Kueur answered him with clawed fingers raking and tearing skin from hips to underarms. His eyes opened wider in shock. Blood pulsed from his wounds. Bone peeked out through loose flesh. He opened his mouth to scream. Alioune pounced, covering his mouth with hers. She closed her eyes and shuddered as Pale Fox’s erupting scream died into a moan.

  Max reluctantly left them to their building rhythm of pain and pleasure, dragging his and the Beast’s hunger away. He moved to the fire drum, where a voice whimpered over the crackle and snap of flames.